Chapter 2 - Is Elsa a paranormal creature

Emily's shift at work was finished, and she was about to leave when she remembered how Michael had saved her earlier from the baffling lady, and she hadn't gotten the chance to thank him.

With an empty tray in his hands, she saw him walk into the kitchen. Dashing to the kitchen, she collided with Michael, who was exiting with the empty tray, now holding three cups of lemonade. The platter slipped from his grip, spilling the contents all over the place.

"Shit!" Michael exclaimed, his jaws clinched. "What's the matter with you, Em?"

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," she cried as she knelt and gathered the shattered glass into the tray.

After a few seconds of standing and staring at her as she tidied the floor, Michael squatted, dipping his hand fiercely into the floor to pick up a broken piece, but it sliced deep into his wrist skin.

Emily's eyes widened as she noticed the broken glass embedded in his wrist. He hurriedly pulled back his hands.

"What? How... How did this happen?" She was stuttering.

When he removed the fractured piece from his wrist, blood oozed out.

"I'll go clean up in the restroom." Micheal stood up and walked away, saying no further words.

Emily finished tidying the floor, and she dumped the garbage in the trash can after he had left.

Michael's angry but yet innocent face worried her, and she felt responsible for everything that had happened. She should make amends for her errors, she thought.

*

"Hey, Chris, can you tell me where the first-aid kit is?" She asked Chris, who had just entered the kitchen with a tray of leftovers.

He tossed it in the kitchen sink and turned to Emily, who was perplexed by his ferocious smile. "Was it really so awful that you needed first aid?" snickering, he said.

Emily, still confused, inquired what he was talking about.

"How can you forget such suffocation?" He asked, then burst out laughing.

"Do you think that's funny?" Emily inquired, having realized what he meant.

"You should've seen your face and how your tongue was sticking out." Chris remarked this while resting his hands on his neck and making obscene faces to imitate her. Emily resisted the temptation to slap him in the face.

"You were enjoying watching me get strangled, weren't you?" She inquired, her eyes narrowing and her head nodding slightly.

This sparked a new round of laughter, this time a very vicious one. He'd try to converse when he needed to regain his breath, but then he'd laugh again. Emily stormed out the door, glaring fiercely at him. Michael had mentioned cleaning up in the restroom earlier, so she was heading there.

The door to the restroom tagged 'male' was open and Michael was standing in front of the mirror, focusing so intently on his reflection that he didn't even notice she was there. He was engrossed in a deep thought.

"Mike?" She called him a third time, slightly shaking him.

He carefully turned around and looked her in the eyes. She was concerned because she could sense the agony and sadness in his hazel eyes.

"What's wrong?" She asked, her gaze fixed on his.

"Nothing," as he sought to flee, was his fast response.

She grabbed his hand to keep him from walking away. "Listen, I'm truly sorry for everything that occurred today."

He nodded in response to what she had said.

"I see you've done a good job of cleaning your wound." She said, while raising his wrist to get a better view.

She rubbed her brow; she was confused. The wound had healed. There were no scars or cuts or blood stains.

"Where's your wound?" She asked, intrigued.

"Go home," he muttered as he walked out of the restroom, leaving her alone in the facility. She was perplexed, and she believed she was going insane.

"Yeah, going home right now is the best thing to do," she said to herself, as she walked out of the restroom and towards the exit.

"Where are you going?" Emily heard someone spoke behind her. She groaned, already knowing who it was.

"Where do you presume I'm going?" Emily proceeded out of the restaurant.

"You can't simply walk away," Chris frowned, following her.

"How come I can't?" She inquired. "My shift is over, and don't expect me to cover for Elsa today; I'm sick of having to cover for that jerk." She mounted her bicycle.

Chris opened his lips to talk, but something drew his attention, and Emily turned to see what it was. She should've known; it was Elsa. She stepped out of the white Lamborghini that had dropped her off and nodded to the person inside before turning around and walking towards the entrance, pretending not to notice Chris and Emily.

Chris couldn't tear his gaze off her. She dressed in a short white gown with black polka dots and straps that clung to every inch of her body, revealing her strict feminine figure. The ointment she applied made her skin glisten anytime lights flashed. She painted her lips crimson and her thick, black, and perfectly curled hair was slightly touching her shoulders.

Elsa was the same age as Emily. She was the girl Chris had admired since they were fifteen.

When Emily noticed Chris's gaze on Elsa, she shook her head slightly and pedaled home, leaving him alone. He dashed inside after realizing that Emily had left.

When he arrived, Elsa was sitting in a chair near the kitchen, her legs crossed and her gaze fixed on the nail she was filing.

"Why haven't you been coming to work, Elsa?" He asked, attempting to keep his nerves in check.

"It's only been three days; I didn't miss the entire week." As Elsa spoke, her gaze never left the nail she was filing.

"Do you realize how difficult it was to fill in for you? So, my father, your boss, wouldn't notice your absence?" He stated, this time more solemnly.

She raised her eyes to his. "Oh, please!" She said, then returned her attention to her nails.

With a sigh, Chris said, "Anyway, can you tell me why you aren't in the kitchen? Customers have already placed their orders."

Elsa turned her head to face him. "You don't think I'm going to cook, do you? It'll eat away at my nails." Elsa expressed her displeasure with a frown.

"Seriously? You haven't shown up for work in three days, and all you worry about right now are those obnoxious-looking nails?" Chris finished with a chuckle.

"Only a moron would fall for a girl with clumsy nails." Her lips twisted into a wicked smirk as she uttered it.

"I'm done with you, Elsa!" He yelled.

"No, you're not!" She retorted with a cry of her own. "Do you believe I'm blind to the way you stare at me?"

That's all there is to it! He was going to inform his father about how she hadn't been showing up for work, and he didn't care if it meant she'd be fired.

He quickly moved away from her and felt his legs becoming linked. As he tried to take another step, he staggered and fell to the ground. He tried to stand up, but discovered he couldn't budge. She walked towards him and intentionally stepped on his hand, her pointy heels piercing the back of his palm, making him yelp in pain. He tried to free his hands, but he still couldn't move.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." She said it in a whisper before walking away.

Chris felt the heavy force that tied him down slip away. He pulled his injured hand to himself and sat up immediately as many thoughts bumped his mind.

How did Elsa know what he wanted to do? Did she read his mind?

Why was he not able to move?

He gasped.

Is Elsa a paranormal creature?